The Cross Connection
by jeri
Summary: To explain why Scully's wearing her cross in the TVG pic.


TITLE: The Cross Connection  
AUTHOR: jeri  
E-MAIL: ggal1116@yahoo.com OR agentjeri@thexfiles.com  
WEBSITE: http://www.geocities.com/jeris_basement/index.html  
RATING: PG  
CATEGORY: VRA, Ma-POV  
KEYWORDS: MSR, ScullyAngst, MaggieAngst, pre-ep  
SPOILERS: um, based on info about the S8 Premiere  
ARCHIVE: Sure, just drop me a line!  
STARTED: September 4, 2000  
FINISHED: September 5, 2000  
  
SUMMARY: Based on that TV Guide photo; you know, the one   
where Scully's talking to Doggett and *wearing her   
cross*!!!!! I'm making lemons out of lemonade.  
  
TIMELINE: From all I've heard about this ep, it takes   
place in June, but since that's impossible (unless we've   
got some new months I've never heard of) I'm placing this   
where it belongs: in early August! (Hmm. Eerie similarity   
to Duane Barry, don't'cha think?)  
  
**DISCLAIMER: Well, CC's not playing very nicely with   
them right now, is he? And continuity is 9/10ths of the   
law. Well it should be.  
  
DEDICATION: To the gals at the future Touchstone archive   
(aka those wackos in the MSRficSupportGroup). Rorie (got   
it right!) suggested a vignette, so here's what I got!  
  
^*^*^  
  
There's something she's not telling me. I'm a mother.   
I may not know what she's hiding, but I know she's hiding   
something. I think it has something to do with Fox, but   
I could be wrong about that.  
  
Who'm I kidding? Of course it's about Fox. The love of   
her life has just up and disappeared! I know that there's   
more to the story than she's telling me.  
  
Like why she was in the hospital two nights ago. She   
doesn't know that I know that, but Mr. Skinn--um, Walter   
let it slip that she hadn't been feeling well lately.   
Normally I wouldn't worry that she hadn't told me; I'd   
assume that she'd overreacted, or someone else had, and   
there was no real reason for her stay there.  
  
But this is Dana. Dana, who waited days before telling   
me she had cancer. Dana, who always tried to go to school   
with 102-degree fevers, especially if she had a test.  
  
Dana, my baby girl.  
  
I've convinced her to come out to lunch with me today.   
She went back to work three days ago, and Walter called   
yesterday telling me that she's barely been out of the   
building since he let her in. His threats don't work   
against her anymore. Apparently, the same was true for   
Fox when Dana was missing.  
  
And I made Fox come out with me then, too. Funny how   
similar our conversations will be.  
  
I'm waiting for her at the spot she chose; the spot that   
Fox chose all those years ago. I'm on a bench by the   
Potomac and Jefferson Memorial. I assume this particular   
bench holds special meaning for them. Nothing Dana does   
will be without meaning now, not until he's returned.  
  
He *will* come back. Of this I am positive.  
  
I see her now, walking toward me with an almost reverential   
step. This bench is holy to her. I'm sitting on the side   
that Fox took that time. He took it naturally, so I suppose   
that's the order they always sat down in. I'll let her   
take her own place today.  
  
Without a word she lowers herself, once again with an air   
of respect toward the area.  
  
"Hi Dana," I say softly, lamenting my need to break the   
peace.  
  
"Hi Mom." Her response is uncharacteristically detached.   
I slid a bit closer to her, trying to make a connection   
to her deeply buried soul.  
  
"Dana..." Her head turns to meet my gaze. Finally, a   
spark of recognition glows in her muted irises.  
  
"Oh...Mom..." she sobs, leaning into my shoulder. My arm   
naturally falls around her, cocooning my baby safely in   
my protective bubble.  
  
"Shhh....It's going to be okay, Dana. It'll all be okay,   
you'll see. He'll be back before you know it..."  
  
Her head snaps back up, and her intense look almost scares   
me. "How long, Mom? How long do you think it'll be? A   
week? A month? Six months? Mom, please don't tell me you   
think it'll be more than six months....God, I need him   
back so bad..."  
  
Her urgency is expected, of course, but I again get the   
feeling that she hasn't told me the whole truth. "Well,   
you were only gone three months, Dana. Is that a good   
timetable to judge by?"  
  
She shrugged. "I don't know. Everything's different now.   
But the longer he's gone, the more...the chance that   
something will go wrong..."  
  
And she's crying again. I haven't seen her cry this hard   
in a long time. I smooth down her hair with a mother's   
caress, and I see her hand playing at the hollow of her   
neck.  
  
Time to do what I came here to do.  
  
"Dana, six years ago," I pause, realizing it's almost   
six years to the day. What an odd coincidence. "When   
you were gone, I called Fox and asked him to pick a   
place where I could meet with him. He chose this same   
bench. I just wanted to talk, mostly about you, about   
sharing our memories. He handed me your cross. I told   
him to keep it so he could give it back to you." Her   
hand freezes its unconscious motions.  
  
"I know you gave Fox your cross, Dana. Walter told me.   
I guess Fox told him why he was suddenly wearing your   
necklace. That was a beautiful gesture, Dana, and I'm   
sure it will bring him back to you. But until that   
happens, you'll be without your faith."  
  
"Mom..."  
  
I hold up a hand to hush her. I must finish my piece,   
then she can try to rebut all that I've said.  
  
I pull out something from my pocket, and I offer it to   
her. "Take this, Dana." I open my hand, revealing a very   
familiar gold cross necklace. "This was Melissa's. When   
she turned away from the church, she sent this to me,   
telling me to use it to pray for her soul." I chuckle   
in memory of that silly conversation. "She would want   
you to have your faith, Dana. And I know it doesn't just   
symbolize your faith in God, but your faith in Fox to   
bring its mate back to you. Wear it, please?"  
  
Carefully, as though she is afraid it's not real, she   
takes it from my hand, watching as it reflects and bends   
the sunlight.  
  
"Thank you," she finally responds, her voice small. She   
sounds almost guilty, and it occurs to me that I finally   
might hear the last bit of the puzzle that's been stuck   
in the box all this time.  
  
"Mom, it's, um, it's funny you should mention symbols   
of faith. Faith is often embedded in love, isn't it?"  
  
Though the question would normally be rhetorical, I sense   
her need for me to confirm this belief. "Of course, Dana.   
One cannot have faith in something, or someone, one does   
not love."  
  
She licks her lips lightly, a smile teasing at the corners   
of her mouth. "Well, have I got a symbol for you..."  
  
THE END  
  
^*^*^  
  
4 out of 5 doctors say expressing your enjoyment of a   
fanfic to its author increases your life expectancy   
23-23.8 years. The other doctor was killed by Cancerman   
before we could ask him.  
  
jeri, president, xpab: x-philes against bees  
Join by writing to: kill_em_all@thexfiles.com OR  
Visit the xpab site:  
http://www.geocities.com/jeris_basement/xpab.html  
  
And while you're there...  
  
Visit Jeri's Basement:  
http://www.geocities.com/jeris_basement/index.html  



End file.
